A Night in Honnleath
by RosieG.9012
Summary: Aylwen and Cullen spend some time in his old hometown, and share stories about their pasts.
Honnleath was the first night they had entirely to themselves. They left the lake behind and wandered the abandoned village like adolescents—hand in hand—occasionally ducking off the main road to kiss in the shadow of one of the empty houses. Aylwen couldn't stop giggling, and every touch he gave her just made her more giggly, more lightheaded. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy.

He, too, was happier than she'd ever seen him. He was all smiles, looked years younger. He even _felt_ more relaxed. His body was looser when he held her, he wasn't so careful when he touched her. But, then, he'd been different ever since the incident with the Lyrium. He laughed more often, and the distance that had been there before was gone.

Once again, he pulled her against one of the vacant houses and kissed her breathless. They half leaned against it, and, not for the first time that day, Aylwen forgot where she was, even who she was. There was only the feeling of his lips on hers and of his hands cupping her face. When he pulled away she had to blink to refocus her vision. Her lips still throbbed from the kiss. He laced his fingers with hers again, and smiled. He looked back at the house.

"I recognize this place," he said. He touched the wall with his free hand. "My best friend lived here."

Her own smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Tell me about your friend," she said. She liked when he told her about his past. It was such a change from when they'd first met.

"His name was William," Cullen said. "No one could believe we were friends. He was such a troublemaker, and he was always dragging me into trouble with him."

She ran her thumb lightly along the back of his hand. "And you were good?" she said.

He grinned and squeezed her hand. "I was good."

She moved a little closer, so that their hips touched. "What sort of trouble did you get into?"

"Oh, too much to name," he said. "And always reluctantly."

She nudged his thigh with her own. "For example?"

He scratched his head. "Well…" he said. "There was this one time when William tried to set me up with his cousin." His face had gone a little red. "She was the first girl I really fancied. I was, what? Twelve?" He chuckled nervously. "He figured out I was interested in her and devised this elaborate, and I mean _elaborate,_ plan to get us alone together. As I recall, it involved three different distractions, an 'accidentally' locked room, and arson."

"How did it turn out?" Aylwen said.

"How do you think?" he said. "He almost burned his uncle's house down, and I never did get to tell his cousin how I felt." He shrugged. "But, actually. He was a very good friend. Always looking out for me."

His smile faltered.

"I wonder what happened to him," he said softly.

"You don't know?" she said.

"No." He sighed. "When Honnleath was overrun I lost track of everyone. Everyone except my siblings. Some villagers died, like my parents, but others escaped. They could be anywhere now."

With her free hand, Aylwen reached up and cupped his cheek. He placed his own hand over hers and closed his eyes.

ooo

"So, you fancied your friend's cousin when you were twelve," she said a bit later.

They were back on the main road now. It was getting colder, clouds stretching across the heavens to partially obscure the moon. Aylwen hardly noticed, though. They continued walking hand in hand.

"That's right," he answered. He sounded a little apprehensive. He must have caught the teasing tone in her voice.

"Aside from her, and the Hero of Fereldan," Aylwen said, "are there any… _other_ ladies who've caught your fancy over the years?"

He scratched his head and glanced down at her. She raised her eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

"Are you referring to past relationships?" he said.

She nodded, still grinning. It was something she'd been wondering about for awhile now. She knew he'd _had_ them, but no details.

"Well…" he said. "Yes, certainly. There have been… a couple."

She swung his arm with her own. "And…?"

He sighed. She noticed his palm was a little sweaty.

"The first was during Templar training," he said. "Toward the end of my time there. She was another trainee and it was the first time I…"

He coughed, and she covered her mouth to hide her giggle. She would never get over how easily embarrassed he was. It was adorable.

"…anyway," he said. "We were given different assignments. So. That was the end of that."

When he didn't say anymore, Aylwen nudged him with her elbow.

"And after that?" she said.

She felt his grip on her hand tighten. Just slightly.

"After that was in Kirkwall," he said. His voice was quiet. "A local woman. We tried, but…" He sighed again. "It was a disaster. I was in no state for that sort of relationship. I was too proud to admit it, though."

He went quiet. Aylwen frowned.

"And… that's all?" she said.

"That's all," he said. He squeezed her hand once more. "Until you."

She leaned into him, which made him loose his balance a little, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "Saving the best for last?" she said.

She meant it as a jest, but he threw his arm around her in response and pulled her into a one-armed hug. His lips brushed the top of her head, and his voice tickled. "Yes," he said.

ooo

The temperature had dropped further, and there were hints in the air of rain. They would probably have to head back to their camp soon, but, for now, they continued their stroll toward the edge of the village. Cullen nudged her with a shoulder.

"So," he said, "we've spent nearly our entire time here talking about me. I think it's my turn to ask about you."

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy.

"What do you want to know?" she said.

"Anything," he said. "I was just realizing, I hardly know anything about your life outside the Inquisition. What are your parents like, for example?"

"I don't remember my parents," she said. "I was given to clan Lavellan when I was four."

He looked over at her, eyes wide in surprise. " _Given_ to them?"

"Yes," she said. She frowned, sensing something in his tone that bothered her. "My birth clan had too many mages, and the Lavellans needed a First."

"So, they just _took_ you?" he said. His voice was even, but there was an edge to it. "From your family?"

She squirmed. "They didn't _take_ me," she said. She tried to keep her own tone even as well. "I was _given_."

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he cleared his throat instead.

"So you grew up without parents," he said.

"Yes." She was almost annoyed. Why did he insist on talking about this? "But the clan was my family. They all raised me. Together. Them and Keeper Deshanna."

"You've mentioned her before," he said. "She must have been like a mother to you."

She frowned again. "No," she said slowly. "She was my Keeper."

He frowned as well. For the first time that night, their silence was uncomfortable. Her face was hot, but not pleasantly so. Finally, he glanced at her again.

"But," he said, "you were happy? With your clan, I mean?"

"Oh yes," she said. She felt warmth at the memories of her friends back home, of the celebrations, of the nights by the fire and the feeling of constant unity and security. She smiled to herself. "I was very happy."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head again. She sighed, feeling relief, but also the deep uncertainty that came whenever she thought about her clan. Especially when she thought about them around him.

They continued on, swaying and half tripping over one another's legs because of their close proximity. They laughed and stumbled to the outskirts of town, falling against a broad trunked tree that grew on the edge of the village. They laughed helplessly before Cullen leaned into her and their laughter was swallowed up by another kiss.

He pulled away, his arms still around her. They leaned against the tree, breathing hard, not speaking. Then, he reached over and brushed a curl out of her face.

"There was on more thing I wanted to ask," he said.

"Yes?" she said. She was still feeling a bit lightheaded.

He tucked the curl behind her ear and stroked the side of her face, eyes warm, but smile crooked.

"You asked me about my past relationships," he said, "it seems only fair I ask about yours."

Her smile faltered. The warmth in her body vanished, replaced by a splash of cold water. She'd been expecting this question to come up at some point, but she hadn't been looking forward to it. His brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"It's…it's difficult for me to talk about," she said.

He pulled back. "Oh," he said. "If that's the case, then you don't have to—"

"No," she said. She moved away from him and folded her arms across her chest, noticing the cold for the first time. "You ought to know."

He still looked concerned, but she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"A few years ago," she said. "I was… well… I suppose you could say I was engaged."

His eyebrows leapt into his hairline. "Engaged?" he said. Almost squeaked it. "Really?"

"Yes, but, it didn't end well." She sighed. "I was seventeen, and stupid. He was a city elf, new to the clan and very, very charming." She rubbed her arm self consciously. Her cheeks burned. "Soon we were sharing a tent and had plans to be Bonded—married."

She scowled at the ground, couldn't help herself. She'd never told anyone about this before. She hadn't needed to. Her clan had known all the details, and there'd been no reason to mention it to anyone else. Now, she hated telling it. Hated reliving it. But he needed to know.

"One morning I woke up and he was gone," she said. "Just _gone._ And he'd taken some of my clan's artifacts with him. And we looked for him, but we never found him."

"Oh," he said.

"That's not even the worst part," she said. " _I_ was the one who told him about the artifacts. He took the key to the chest off me while I was sleeping. It was _my_ fault."

She kept her eyes on the ground, still hugging herself.

She heard him clear his throat.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no idea."

"It's all right," she said. "It was years ago. I don't even think about it anymore."

She heard him step forward, and in a moment his arms were around her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, hands threading up into his mantle.

"It wasn't your fault," he said softly. "You were seventeen. It sounds like that…that…" he cleared his throat, started again. "It sounds like that man took advantage of you."

She squeezed his mantle more tightly, but didn't respond. Keeper Deshanna had said the same thing after Dylahn left. _It wasn_ _'t your fault, D'alen. He tricked you. He tricked all of us._ But she knew her own weakness. Knew that, ultimately, she couldn't trust herself, or even what others said about her. They couldn't see what she saw.

But, when he he held her tightly, for a moment she could almost, almost believe them all. For a moment, she could almost forget everything—everything except him, his warm body, and his arms around her.

ooo

Later, back at their camp, they made tea and a fire and settled as close to it as they could, knees touching. Because of the cold he'd draped his mantle over her shoulders. It completely dwarfed her, and she was sure she looked ridiculous with her head barely peeking above the collar. But it was warm, and very soft. With the tea in her hands and the mantle wrapped around her, she felt calm, safe. She needed that now.

She blew on her tea and looked curiously over at him. As much time as they'd spent together, she'd never seen him without his coat before. He had a _bit_ more of a shape without it—she could actually see the slight curve of his waist. She bit her lip and stared back down at her tea, cheeks flushed once again. Being able to tell that someone actually had shoulders shouldn't be this exciting.

She felt his hand on her knee.

"What are you thinking about?" he said.

She looked up again. His eyes were warm, lidded. She grinned.

"Guess," she said.

His own grin widened. He shifted even closer, turning toward her.

"I think I have some idea," he said.

He set his tea down, leaned in, and kissed her. It was a slow, soft kiss, but one that built in urgency and intensity. He kept one hand on her knee, but the other went to her ear, tracing down from tip to base. A shudder passed through her spine. She almost spilled her drink, which was still clutched in her hands. He broke away.

"Put that down," he said, nodding at her mug.

She did as he said and in an instant his arms were around her again. His mantle slid off her shoulders as she wrapped her own arms around his torso and let him lean into her. She panted as they kissed, open-mouthed, breathing each other in. Then, he pulled away again, face just a few inches from her own.

"I think…" he said. He paused, as if to catch his breath. "I think I'm ready."

Her heart stuttered. She felt like she could barely breath.

"R-really?" she said. Her voice sounded higher than usual. "Here?"

"Yes," he said. His lips were so close she could feel the air on her face. "If you want to, that is."

She thought she might be trembling. If you want to? She'd wanted nothing more all day. Had wanted nothing more for weeks. But, now that it came to it, she felt… she wasn't sure. Nervous? Uncertain? She'd been happy just sitting by the fire with him, enjoying the warmth and security of the evening.

But when she looked up into his eager, adoring face, she knew she couldn't bring herself to say no. She cleared her throat.

"All right," she said.

He smiled warmly and leaned in again, closed his mouth over hers. Her hands found his face and she moved her lips gently, tentatively. She thought she felt him smile.

He slid his hands down her torso to her hips, encouraging her to lift herself. She allowed him to guide her into his lap. She could feel the hardness in his trousers, pressing right into where she ached. She moved against it, and he groaned, hands digging into her back, panting as much as he was kissing her. He bit her lower lip, a gentle tug. She moaned.

Gently, he shifted them off the log and onto the grass, settling on top of her. The ground was wet and cold—a shock, but not enough to distract her from him. She threaded her legs through his as he cradled the back of her head. His other hand moved lower, hovered just above her breasts, searching for the clasps that held her tunic closed. She made a sound halfway between a pant and a moan.

His fingers stumbled clumsily against the clasps on her chest. He broke the kiss, looking down so he could focus on undoing the top few clasps. Without his hand cradling it, her head fell back so she was looking up at the sky.

The clouds had cleared so that she could see the multitude of stars above them. She had been fully focused on him, but with her attention suddenly elsewhere she was hit by a wave of memory.

A different night. Different hands unlacing her. A different, leaner body over hers. Grass wet on her back. The same sky.

Involuntarily, she flinched.

Cullen hesitated, hands still poised over her half unbuttoned tunic. He looked down at her.

"Are you all right?" he said. His face was flushed, eyes still darkened, but there was concern in his voice.

Aylwen tried to smile. "It's nothing," she said. She reached up, traced his cheek with her fingers. "Keep going."

He continued, but more slowly now, obviously still worried. She lay under him, waiting for him to finish undoing her shirt, and trying to focus, to bring her mind back to _now._

 _I wish we could always stay like this,_ she'd said to Dylahn after their first night together, lying under the stars with her head on his chest. He'd stroked her hair and whispered, _Now is what we have. Just focus on now._

She abruptly sat up, half pushing Cullen off her, pulling away. She felt sick. His grip on her slackened again and he looked down at her, eyes wide. She looked away.

"Aylwen?" he said. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. Frustrated tears stung at the corners of her eyes. Why did Dylahn have to ruin _everything_ , even years later?

He climbed off her, knelt in front of her in the grass. She could see him trying to get her to look at him.

"Did I hurt you?" he said.

"No," she said. She finally looked up, meeting his soft, worried eyes. She reached out and smoothed back a strand of his hair that had come loose, hand settling on his cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong." Once again, she tried to smile. "I guess maybe _I_ _'m_ not ready," she said. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head and pulled her into yet another hug. She buried her face in his shoulder.

"It's all right," he murmured into her neck. "We can wait as long as you need to."

She pulled him closer, held him tight, trying to convey how much she appreciated him right then. He was so different from Dylahn. So much better. She tried, once again, to focus on him and not on the terrible, terrible fear that, no matter where she went or how much time passed, she would always, somehow, be broken.


End file.
